


One Retainer's Champion

by KaniKani



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Patch 2.0: A Realm Reborn Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26021593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaniKani/pseuds/KaniKani
Summary: In the aftermath of a treacherous plot, one retainer is left to uphold the legacy of a hero.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	One Retainer's Champion

**Author's Note:**

> This was at first to be an entry to a 30-day word challenge, but it has since grown beyond its original intent (and I failed to deliver an entry a day anyways). Rather than leave it behind, I decided to rewrite the original entry and host it here. Parts were cut, which I may or may not expand upon in the future. I have not decided yet.
> 
> Enjoy. And do be gentle, this is the first time I've ever hosted my writing somewhere for others to read.

Before me, under the beating desert heat, stood an elderly gentleman of middling height. He dressed in a loose robe as colorless as his hair, accented only by the faintest threads of purple. Upon his hip rested a thin sword, decorated with ornaments of serpents and their scales. The wear of a thousand journeys dulled the golden trim of his attire; now a mere shade of their former selves. This was none other than Musosai, the rumored sword-master from the Far East. He had come to Ul’Dah in search of warriors beyond his native lands; though as I recall, his search came to an end not long ago.

“You, young one!” he called to me with a raspy voice. His eyes squinted under the blinding daylight. “I remember you. You accompanied him when he took up my challenge. He called you his retainer. And his student, in this land’s swordsmanship.”

“Y-yes, sir.” I answered with an unsteady nod. I picked myself from the ground and dusted my tattered clothes, hoping to present myself well. I bowed once to him, “It is as you say, Master Musosai. I am the Hero’s retainer.”

I glanced between his garb and mine. In contrast to him, I displayed nothing of intricate weave. Nor did I brandish exotic craftsmanship. I wore only a frayed and faded tunic, patched up by my own poor needlework. My gloves were in great disrepair; while my boots bathed in dust, sand, and mud. I owned no frivolities to flaunt. I held only a peculiar sword sheathed into its plain and modest scabbard.

Musosai’s eyes narrowed further at said scabbard. He was familiar with it, for this blade of far eastern craft was once his own. Yet I did not inherit it from him, and this seemed to perplex the aging swordsman.

He gestured to the scabbard, “Young retainer, you hold my apprentice’s sword, yet I do not see him. Tell me, where is your master?”

“My master? He is not here. He...” I averted my eyes from his, as I wished to not believe this truth, “He...is gone.”

“Gone? Again?!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. The city walls echoed as if my words wronged him a hundred times over. His was not a solemn face; instead it reddened from irritation and impatience. “I have searched the breadth of this arid city for my apprentice. From that royal upper circle down to the noisy markets. Yet when I ask of him, all say he is ‘gone’ but refuse to say anymore! As you hold the sword I gifted to him, I can only assume he has rejected my tutelage and run off somewhere else!”

“N-no Master Musosai! H-he would not...”

“I traveled across the seas and challenged the swordsmen of this land to find one worthy of my legacy!” He threw his hands in a fit, his robes flapping in equal frenzy, “And who do I find amongst these pitiful brawlers? This land’s own—what did you call him? Yes, the Carrier of Light! A hero himself, skilled with swords and magicks both! Truly, none were more worthy than he!

“But what good is becoming the teacher when the pupil is never here to learn? I have waited days—no, weeks to begin his training, yet he does not attend his first lesson! I may be an old fool who spouts nonsense, but I cannot live forever. My knowledge, my teachings, my legacy; all is meaningless if the heavens are my sole prodigy!”

“Master Musosai, please!” I brought my hand forward to calm him, to answer his outcry, “You misunderst—”

“You!” he finally turned his fury to me, and I recoiled from his outburst. “You are his retainer and his student. Yet you do not reel him when he forgoes his duties? Tell me, what do you learn from him when he disappears on a whim? Does it not anger you that he has left you? That he has gone on some nonsensical adventure rather than train you, his only pupil? How useless is a teacher if he does not teach?!”

My shoulders trembled, my insides twisted, and my knees quaked before this furor. I looked down to the sword I clutched, and saw that I was as lost as it. I dared not raise my head, for I carried the failings of my master. I could offer nothing in his defense, and I could find no words to answer these truths. But I must answer, for I knew his strengths and faults; I knew his heroics, his honor, and his regrets. I must answer, for I am the only one left to remember him as he truly was. I pressed a hand to my chest, to steady myself before I spoke.

“My master...is quite useless isn’t he?” I brought myself to face the far east swordsman with a gentle smile, one that split my shrinking heart in two. “You are right, Master Musosai. You are...very right. He always ran off on his own adventures, and always for reasons he kept to himself.

“He would leave for days, weeks even, on journeys to all corners of our world. He left not a single word of where or why. Nor did he ever spare a thought for those who might worry for him. Then, when he returned, he would drag home bags overstuffed with newfound rubbish! And he would beg me to safeguard it all, even when I had no more room to store it!

“When he made no journeys, he sent me to the markets with the strangest things; to sell for ridiculous prices. He roamed the streets and challenged everyone to a game of cards that he could never win. He spent irresponsible amounts on the most hideous clothes; to wear proudly at weddings and ceremonies! He boasted loudly of his exaggerated exploits, especially to the maidens that lent him an ear. He cooked the most awful meals, and pleaded that I help finish the atrocious leftovers! A-and he always forgets to feed his Chocobo! His poor Chocobo, dragged through all that rain and mud and snow.

“He was...far from perfect, this much is true. But he has always endeavored to do good! Each day, he would go sticking his nose in other people’s business hoping to find trouble. Though he began by chasing criminals in these streets, he reached for far greater acts of valor. ‘Twas he who foiled plots to divide this land; he who brought together people of all walks; and he who risked his life for a future in light. And it was he who answered our plight, and offered us—offered me—a second chance.

“His crusade to right the wrongs of the realm knew no bounds.” My eyes fell to my once dusty boots, now soaked in these troublesome tears. “Yet even with all he had accomplished, he still had his own desire. He had always wished to pass down his mastery, his charity, and his righteousness. And though he was a useless teacher, I did strive to learn from his example. But now all that he was—his charity, his righteousness, his mastery—all is now buried. Buried under dust and ash. He was the Warrior of Light. Our champion...my champion. And I fear I will never see him again.”

Upon this final farewell, I collapsed to my knees and relinquished his sword. My fortitude was fleeting, and I despaired.


End file.
